


One Hundred Ways to Say "I Love You"

by AMiserableLove



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:08:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMiserableLove/pseuds/AMiserableLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of UNRELATED Deckerstar Tumblr prompts based off the post 100 Ways to Say "I Love You". Fluff, angst, smut, and everything in between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "I'll drive you to the hospital."

**Author's Note:**

> Because apparently Lucifer is too light-hearted for me and I like to (emotionally) hurt my favorite characters…this deviates from the more flippant reaction Chloe had to Lucifer supposedly getting shot.
> 
> Prompt 44–”I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“Trixie, why don’t you go to the car, Mommy will be there in just a minute.”

Her voice is a rough and low, the words grainy on her tongue as she whispers the request while continuing to stare at him; eyes soaking in the sight of him, dragging up and down the length of his body— _where’s the entry wound, where’s all the blood coming from, where is he hurt_ —before meeting his steady and unyielding gaze. The flash of warmth and concern, the glimmer of confusion and uncertainty, shining just beneath the warm brown depths.

Her heart is pounding so hard she can feel it; the frantic beat resounding in her head like a terrible and irate drum. She’s trembling. And she hates herself for it. Hates that she’s just barely holding it together as she redirects her attention back to her daughter, giving her an encouraging nod and a soft reassuring smile—one she can feel quivering just around the edges. She watches through blurred and foggy vision as Trixie glances between her and Lucifer, staring at the club owner for a moment before backing up and doing what was asked. The trauma of the night, the events that had taken place, surely playing a part in the young girl’s lack of protest.

(Her poor, poor girl. Her poor innocent brave wonderful girl.)

When she hears the car door open and then close again, the sound reverberating in the oversized hangar, she lifts her gaze back up to him, the shaky breath turned almost sob that escapes her lips practically echoing in the space between them as he continues to watch her, silent, and unmoving.

“We need to get you to a doctor. I'll—I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

And there it is again, that rough and low tone that sounds so unlike her normal one—her words forced and just bordering on frantic. Dimly a voice in her head warns she’s close to losing it, hissing for her to settle down, annoyed and irritated and _embarrassed_ that she’s slowly unraveling before him.

She’s stronger than this.

“Detective…”

“You’re bleeding. There’s blood. A lot of it actually. And I heard—I saw… _God_ there’s so much blood Lucifer, but…” she pauses, sucks in a hissing breath as her throat grows ever tighter, her eyes blinking rapidly as she feels a telltale prick—the burn and sting of unwanted tears. _Pull yourself together Decker_. “But where’s it coming from, Jesus Christ where’s it coming from?”

Before she can think, before she can calm down and snap herself out of it—she’s half aware she’s toeing the line of a full-blown panic attack—she moves and closes the space between them. Her hands reaching out, she hesitantly touches his wet and stained shirt; fingers shaky and uncertain as they roam over his chest and down to his abdomen, searching for the wound—needing to find it, desperate to somehow fix it.

“Where is it?”

“Detective…”

“I heard…I mean I saw…”

“Did you?”

At his question, the slightly mocking rumble of his voice, so close she can feel his breath dancing in her hair, she almost breaks.

It’s too much.

Malcolm, Trixie, Dan, Lucifer.

_Too much._

Her mind is too muddled, her body too weak.

She doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

_(Who to believe.)_

She’s exhausted.

So very, very tired.

“I can’t find it.” She murmurs without looking up, hands still moving frantically, pushing and pulling at the soaked fabric as she desperately searches for what, in the deepest corner of her brain, she knows she won’t find.

“Dectective…”

“All this blood, it can’t be Malcolm’s. There should be an entry wound. You should be dead, he said you were dead and he…”

“Look at me.”

“If I could just find the—”

_“Chloe!”_

So wrapped up in her nearly incoherent mutterings—the losing battle she’s waging with own emotions—she doesn’t have time to react when he suddenly moves, engulfing her in a tight, nearly bone crushing hug. A startled gasp escaping her lips, she feels her entire body freeze, everything inside of her—her racing thoughts, her pounding heart—screeching to a halt for a moment as she absorbs the shocking feeling of him wrapped around her.

His body pressed against hers, her face buried in his coat; slowly, little by little, she begins to calm down.

She can see his chest rising and falling with each breath he takes.

She can hear his voice, soft and lilting whispering her name.

She can feel his heart, rapidly beating as he continues to hold her.

He’s okay.

_He’s alive._

(How is he alive?)

As they stand there, holding each other in silence, a part of her knows that she should push him away, they’re slowly approaching the point of no return—too many emotions, too many words left unspoken—and Trixie is waiting in the car. But her daughter can’t see her like this right now and he’s warm and solid and _alive_ and she hasn’t been held in such a long, long time and…

There’s a larger part of her that’s unwilling to let him go just yet.

So she doesn’t.

Ignoring the feeling of dampness trickling down her cheeks, reminding herself that soon, very soon, they’re going to need to have a very real conversation—no tricks, no gimmicks, just the truth—Chloe allows him to hold her, soaking in his warmth and breathing in his scent while offering a small silent prayer of thanks to whoever is listening.

(She doesn’t see the awkward comforting smile he shoots her daughter when she opens the car door to check on them, doesn’t see the way he looks up towards the ceiling, uncertain and questioning as her body begins to tremble against his, doesn’t see the glimmer of tears in his eyes as he holds her tight, giving his own humble offering of thanks to the deity— _father_ —he had once promised to never forgive.)


	2. Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #52--"Have fun."

Chloe stopped short as she came down the stairs while smoothing her dress into place, her brow furrowing tightly as she took in the unexpected sight displayed before her—her daughter’s beaming face as she giggled and literally wrapped herself around Lucifer’s leg, expressing her delight in a shrill nearly shrieking voice that he had come to pay her a visit. The club owner claimed devil’s expression of pure terror mixed with slight disgust and maybe just the barest hint of affection would have been almost comical had she not been so confused by his unannounced presence in her home in the first place.

“Lucifer! What are you doing here?”

His head shot up at her sharp question, relief shining in his dark gaze as he looked up at her as if she were his savior, his fingers gently prying Trixie’s death grip away from his body. “Detective I…” his voice trailed off as he took a moment to really look at her; eyes flickering up and down her figure, lingering a little on the dress she was wearing before snapping back up to her face—admiration, surprise, and jealousy lighting his features. “You look…”

“Doesn’t mommy look pretty!?”

His attention drifting back towards Trixie, he gave her daughter a tight somewhat forced smile; one she’d seen him reserve for countless others when he was merely playing the part.

One that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Errr yes child she looks…”

“Like a princess! That’s because she has a date…with a boooooy.”

Eyes darting back towards her, Chloe watched as an unreadable expression slowly masked his face—the charismatic (slightly comical) air about him suddenly turning formal and cold.

“Is that right?”

And damn him, she hated how she felt like she needed to explain.

Hated that she suddenly felt like a cheat—nauseated and chilled—her palms dampening a little as she straightened her spine and raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge what her daughter had revealed.

So she had a date.

Big deal.

She didn’t owe him an explanation.

Didn’t need to explicitly state that she had only said yes to _Paul_ because she had needed to prove to herself that she _could_ go out with another man. That she wasn’t too wrapped up in the mystery and pull of Lucifer and his dark and intriguing world.

Didn’t need to admit that she was too confused and terrified and unsure about her feelings for  _him_.

(She didn’t understand this dance they were doing—the back and forth, the almosts and what ifs.)

“Well then, I’ll just be going.”

It wasn’t until he turned, his body offering a view of the desk he’d been leaning against, that she noticed the pizza box and six pack of her favorite beer behind him. A DVD with some Disney looking princess laying only an arm’s reach away.

And dammit, it shouldn’t have bothered her so much.

That he had shown up at her house (uninvited) on her night off.

That he had stopped at her favorite pizzeria and picked up her favorite beer.

That despite whatever outwards aversion he might show, he’d considered Trixie too.

It shouldn’t have made her want to crawl inside herself, have the floor swallow her whole, explain to him that it was just a couple of drinks with a work colleague and that it meant nothing and it was going absolutely nowhere.

It shouldn’t have made her want to rush over to him and smack him upside the head, scream and demand that he not to look at her _that way._

(He confused her and terrified her and she just needed some _distance_.)

It shouldn’t have bothered her.

But it did.

God it did.

“Lucifer…”

The smile he shot her was as chilled and detached as the one he’d given her daughter only moments ago; his eyes looking at a spot just over her head as he shoved his hands into his pockets and quickly moved towards the front door.

“Yes well you look…” he paused a moment, turning back towards her; eyes flashing back to hers for a second, expression softening just a little as the uninterested playboy quickly melted away and Lucifer, her _Lucifer_ , suddenly took his place. “Well…you look lovely Chloe…truly.”

“Lucifer…”

“Have fun tonight Detective…enjoy your pizza child.”

With the sound of the door slamming shut behind him and resonating throughout the small house, Chloe let out a slow and shaky breath, knowing the unmistakable look of surprise and longing and _hurt_ she’d briefly seen shining in his eyes would most likely stay with her for the rest of the night.

“Hey monkey, how about mommy stays home tonight?”


End file.
